


Home

by anotherwinchesterfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Smut, Wake-Up Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherwinchesterfangirl/pseuds/anotherwinchesterfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's finally home after working cases for weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

You feel the bed dip just a bit behind you, aware enough to realize it’s happening, but too tired to open your eyes. You tried to wait up for him, but you must’ve fallen asleep reading because there’s paper under your cheek and an uncomfortable crick in your neck. You push the book to the floor, eyes still shut tight, barely on this side of sleep, and reach behind you to make sure it’s him, mumbling something incoherent that was supposed to be  _ hey _ or  _ Sam _ or  _ you’re home _ , but it comes out more like “mmmm gmmphhh.” 

He chuckles a little, and then you feel him behind you, large and warm, and he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, your back tight against his bare chest. He smells like soap, and you can feel his damp hair brush your bare shoulder as he curls himself around you.

You’re ready to drift right back into sleep until Sam’s large hand skims over your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple through your camisole, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. Your eyes flutter open as you moan happily and arch your back into it, and you can feel his cock, hard and pressing into the cleft of your ass. He uses his other hand to sweep your hair aside, and his lips land hot and wet on your neck, just under your hairline. It takes mere moments before you are practically panting with want. Only Sam can take you from dead asleep to raring to go in less than three minutes.

You reach behind you and slide your hand into the front of his boxer briefs. He groans low in your ear when you touch him, make a fist around him, stroke up and down his hard, smooth length. He leans over a bit to kiss you on the mouth, his tongue sliding against yours.

“What time is it?” you mumble when he breaks away. His hands are everywhere; he’s got both his arms around you now, one teasing your other breast, the other skimming down your side to grip your hip and pull you even closer against him. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your panties and stills there for a moment.

“Early,” he murmurs. “But I’ve been thinking about you naked for the past five hours, ever since you sent me that picture.” You grin into the dark—you hoped it would have that effect on him. It wasn’t anything too scandalous, just a picture you took of yourself laying in bed, angled to give him a nice view of your cleavage, captioned  _ missing you _ . They were on the road, working case after case, for weeks with hardly any time to talk on the phone except for quick check-ins, and you missed him like crazy. “I need you, baby.” His breath is hot on your ear, making you shiver. “I was so hard in the car, I thought I was going to have to ask Dean to stop for gas just so I could take care of it. I feel like a fucking teenager.”

You giggle, but it quickly turns into a gasp when Sam pushes his fingers into your panties and thumbs right over your clit. You didn’t even realize how turned on you were until his fingers are easily slipping inside you, and he’s slowly spreading your wetness over your clit.  _ God _ you’re practically writhing, but you can’t keep your hips still cause it’s just  _ been a while _ , and you missed this—the gentle-firm touch of his fingers and the warm comfort of his body against yours and the rasp of his voice wrecked with need. He nudges your legs open wider with his elbow, and your thighs tremble as he starts to circle your clit faster. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and you come with a tiny shout, your shuddering legs snapping closed over his hand. 

You’re barely able to catch your breath before Sam’s nudging you onto your back and moving over you. He pulls your panties down off your legs, and he’s already naked and has a condom on. You wonder briefly how he did that so quickly, but then he pushes inside you, pulls one of your legs up by the knee, and throws your foot onto his shoulder, leaning forward, thrusting deep. He grips your hips, hard, grits his teeth to stave off his own orgasm, wanting to watch you come apart under him, which you do in record time, gasping and shuddering. 

You’re still pulsing with aftershocks when his thrusts start to stutter, and your leg slips off his shoulder as he falls forward, catching himself on his forearms on either side of your head. You wrap your legs around his back, and he drags himself up hard against you on his final thrust, the muscles in his arms rigid as he groans his release, panting into your hair.

You both catch your breath there for a moment, skin sticking together with sweat, until he pulls out slowly and rolls off you and onto his back, and you snuggle into his side, your face pressed against his flushed skin, the hair on his chest tickling your cheek.

“I’m glad you’re home.” 

He tightens his arm around your shoulders.  “Me too.”


End file.
